In a city proud of its tradition of runners from Red Grange to Bronko Nagurski to Beattie Feathers to Bill Osmanski to George McAfee to Rick Casares to Gale Sayers, Payton outperformed them all.

Arguments over who was the "greatest" runner revolve around style and opinion. Simpson and Dorsett and others were faster. Brown and many others were bigger; Brown still has the highest yards-per-carry average at 5.22. Sayers and McElhenny were fancier. Campbell and Nagurski and Csonka and Riggins were more powerful, although pound-for-pound, nobody was stronger than Payton.

Ditka, the Bears' coach for Payton's final six seasons, described him simply as the best football player he had ever seen because he did so many things so well. Payton found time, for example, to catch more passes than either Lenny Moore or Frank Gifford, two running backs who became the first great flankerbacks as the passing game developed.

Payton was such a superb blocker that coaches liked to save clips to show friends. "He's a thrill to watch for a football man," said Abe Gibron, who missed being Payton's first coach by a year.

"All this folderol about the rushing record never meant anything to me," said Finks, who drafted Payton in 1975 after firing Gibron. "In fact, Walter's rushing yards are probably the most overrated element of his play. For instance, there's no better blocker in the NFL. None. He flattens linebackers, knocks down ends, attacks nose guards. And the irony is that he's competing against one-dimensional players."

Jack Pardee, his first Bears coach, was so defensive-minded that he once included Payton's pursuit and tackling ability after interceptions as two of Payton's assets. His first position coach, Fred O'Connor, set the stage for a legend by declaring after first glance: "God must have taken a chisel and said, `I'm going to make me a halfback.' "

No man ever played harder; no kid ever loved it more. Payton bounced up from tackles, often helping the tackler to his feet after delivering the first blow with his Popeye-sized forearms. The style was calculated to suggest invincibility, a ruse exposed on Bear sidelines when Payton would surreptiously seek pain-killing medicine from trainer Fred Caito or rub an ankle when it was really a knee that hurt. He didn't want anyone to know.

Payton missed only one game in his career and was livid about it, blaming Pardee and O'Connor for punishing him after he missed practice time with a sore ankle in his rookie year. He could have played and forever after demanded an asterisk be added to preserve what he believed was a perfect durability record spoiled by vindictive coaches.

Payton routinely turned the drudgery of practice into a sight to behold. The Bears could have sold tickets to watch him, and probably would if he were playing in this more commercial time. Payton never was formally diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, probably because he couldn't sit still long enough to be tested. In football, he was able to put his relentless movement to good use during practices as well as games.

In non-tackling drills, he would sometimes break through the line and run backwards or engage in a dance routine with a defensive back before flipping the ball into an unsuspecting belly. When it was time to rest, he would throw passes on the sideline, often catching high-velocity 30-yarders with one bare hand. When it was a kicker's turn to practice, Payton would shag balls and throw them back at the kicked balls. It was not uncommon for him to hit them in mid-flight. Once he did it twice in a row, convincing stunned onlookers he could indeed do anything he wanted. Payton also was the team's backup kicker. If he ever ran out of ideas, he would walk 50 yards down the sideline by himself--on his hands.

No shirt tail was safely tucked at practice. If a player was in sweat pants, he risked indecent exposure every time he turned his back on Payton. At the end of one practice, as tired players dragged themselves to water coolers, Payton leap-frogged over the head of a 6-foot-4-inch assistant coach on the way to the locker room.

"My lasting memory will be more of practice, going outside day in and day out and seeing Walter in a state of perpetual motion," said safety Gary Fencik, who played with Payton for 12 of his 13 seasons. "If he's not running the ball, he's on the sideline throwing it or kicking it. I think that reflects how much Walter really loves playing football."